


The Empty Seat Fiasco

by MONANIK



Series: Meet-ugly oneshots Haikyuu [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arguing, Awkward Crush, Awkward Encounter, Awkward Flirting, But it's meed ugly instead, Crush at First Sight, Gay Panic, Idiots in Love, M/M, Meet-Cute, POV Hinata Shouyou, Rated teen for language, Subways, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 23:13:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20786621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MONANIK/pseuds/MONANIK
Summary: Prompt:We make contact before trying to steal the last seat on the subway/bus/train and I end up in your lap and--fuck you--I'm going to stay here because I've had a really long day and this seat was mine.Hinata is insanely awkward and Kageyama only finds this wild orange incredibly endearing.





	The Empty Seat Fiasco

**Author's Note:**

> Check out the fully prompt list by @veronicabunchwrites on Tumblr!
> 
> Anyhow, I'm back into Haikyuu hell and am starting it off with awkward Kagehina and the beginning of a series of unrelated one-shots featuring all kinds of ships in meet-ugly scenarios. 
> 
> Have a ship you'd like to read? Write it in the comments and I might write a prompt around it.

The subway that was supposed to take him from school to his home, was today—much like every other day—crammed to the brim.

Inside, people shuffled closer and closer to one another. All ideas of personal space long abandoned in favor of attempting to remain upright through the many twists and turns. Elbows and bags and ticklish hair bumped and shoved him every which way. He held on for dear life, tilting his chin as best he could to breathe in what little air remained above his head, there, among wide shoulders and towering backs.

As if having heard his calling, the subway stopped in central Yokohama, where a handful of the burly folks caging him got off.

In a moment of bliss his senses crashed headfirst back into him the moment he took a deep breath, and, off to his right, discovered a single empty seat. Like the halo of a saint it might as well have glowed golden, despite the worn seat sporting stains of he-doesn’t-want-to-know-what residue left drying on it.

He took a step forward, carefully wading his way through flailing arms and elbows, concentrated on the task ahead, when his eyes glanced at a contender. The moment Hinata stilled and looked into his eyes, he stilled, too.

It felt eerily like looking into a mirror, except in this one Hinata’s soft, orange curls had been replaced by shiny, black strings. Where his stature of barely 164 had once been, now stood a whopping 182. Brown eyes turned blue and cold, steely locked on him in a spectacular frown.

As if time stopped, neither moved. The flailing limbs around them slowed and the single thought running through his head sounded much like an echo when he saw that same, mutual understanding in the eyes of the stranger.

Except that meant the long-legged boy was thinking of stealing his seat, which meant Hinata was at a disadvantage.

The moment passed as soon as it’d arrived, and in a second of flurry he flung himself forward—successfully earning a handful of “Hey!” s along the way from disturbed passengers.

He saw it in front of him—his holy throne, his savior in need—and yet when he turned and sat, he met a different type of soft. A soft so soft and misshapen it felt like anything _but _seat cushions. A soft that pulsed warm, a soft that… _moved._

Hinata froze.

_What do other people normally do in these situations?_ His mind numbly supplied, trying in vain to patch together a valid reaction to _sitting in the lap of a stranger._ Alas, his panic-driven monkey brain could do nothing but blurt out,

“Alright, then! Fuck you! I saw this seat first!”

The poor guy, sitting stiffly in utter shock, could do nothing for an agonizing 10 seconds but choke out unintelligible exclamations of confusion. Then, by some miracle, he recovered.

Except it only served to further complicate Hinata’s situation.

“What the crap are you doing, dumbass?” he growled, and Hinata frowned.

_Listen, I know this is basically classifiable as some sort of harassment but I’m stubborn and you’re being a dick so I’m not moving. _

Of course, he didn’t say that. Instead he fumbled.

“We—well! I saw it first, and in case you haven’t noticed I’m too short to stand around all these people!” he started, dumbly searching his mind for an explanation as the situation unfolding slowly dawned on him, “Do you know how suffocating it is to have to breathe stale fart air for twenty minutes as every elbow in your near vicinity finds home in your eyes sockets and temples!?” he continued, now sufficiently beet-red.

He could feel the heat of his blush crawl all the way down to his chest, and gently nibble at the tips of his ears.

The stranger remained silent. As still as the dead. Then, he spoke, voice a trembling thread about to snap.

“Y-you…” he started, inhaling shakily, giggled muffled behind his hand. Hinata couldn’t see it, but he could feel it. Could feel the quiver in his body, the tremble in his chest. _Fuck. _

“You’re the most stupid little shrimp I’ve ever met. What the hell is your problem?” he wheezed, but the words lacked bite—overtaken by the glee in his voice, the grin most certainly spread across his face. Hinata would laugh at himself, too.

In a moment of anger, he gladly took the bait.

“Shut up, lamppost!”

“Dwarf.”

“Giraffe!”

“Turd.”

“Piece of hot shit!”

“…”

“…”

_That came out wrong, didn’t it?_

The silence that followed made Hinata wish to be back in the crammed space of stale-fart wafting through the air. _What is up with his brain-to-mouth filter today?_

He chanced a measly glance over his shoulder, finally getting a close up look of the guy he—

_Fuck._

Perhaps his insult ‘hot shit’ wasn’t as off the mark. Perhaps he shouldn’t correct himself for his shit word-choice.

The guy in whose lap he sat was staring right at him, hiding a pair of trembling lips behind the clenched fist of his hand. His shoulders shook with the attempt to keep the laughter from surfacing.

But what caught Hinata’s breath in his throat wasn’t the laughter, no. It was the deep, rich blue of his eyes. The gentle sway of silken hair that fell just low enough to frame a high-cheeked face free of any and all imperfections.

His skin positively _glowed _in the shitty overhead light. Hinata decided then and there that whoever could look good in the crappy subway lights was actually, officially good looking.

But this guy took the cake.

His shaking shoulders, Hinata analyzed in utter panic, were broad and filled out beneath the black runner jacket. His lips; quirked ­_just-so _to make his heart stutter in his chest. On the right cheek an adorable dimple made itself known.

He looked away, his face a shade so vibrant he _saw _red. Or maybe that was the sudden rise in blood pressure. Was it the fluttering of his heartbeat?

“What’s your name, ugly?” came a low, raspy question from just behind his left ear. Hinata squirmed, tried not to let his thoughts wander, but the warmth of the stranger’s body made all coherent thought damn near impossible.

“Hinata,” he mumbled, shily now, “Hinata Shouyou,” he added.

The guy hummed in thought, “Hinata, huh…” Something feather-light slipped into his tone, but he had no time to dwell on it before the stranger continued.

“Kageyama Tobio,” he grumbled, adjusting his legs and thus moving for the first time since they’d sat down. Hinata gulped.

_Damn. Had he not looked this wouldn’t have ever been a problem._ Alas, Hinata’s gay monkey-brain betrayed him yet again as he took a deep breath, this time void of fart and finding in it the scent of deodorant and some perfume he assumed was Kageyama’s.

_Kageyama Tobio._

Around them, people were mostly quiet. Save for a handful of teenagers chatting quietly in their own corner of the world. In a perfect reality, Hinata might be one of them. Minding his own business. Going about his life unaware of a certain _Kageyama Tobio _with the deep, blue eyes and blade-sharp jaw.

_Shit._

“Sorry,” he whispered, keenly aware of the stares they’d been receiving all along, “I really didn’t mean to. I just panicked. And it was true, what I said, about the fart-air.”

Kageyama scoffed and chuckled, the sound a breathy one on the tip of his tongue. “Whatever,” he said, “I don’t really care. I just wanted to sit or else my legs would give out,” he confessed.

“Legs?”

“Yeah,” he continued, “Heading home from practice.”

“Practice?”

“Are you a parrot or deaf? Yes, practice, you moron.”

“Asshole!”

“Shitface.”

“What practice?” he asked.

Kageyama moved again. His jacket rustled with the action, and in his peripheral Hinata noted a hand coming up to brush through dark bangs.

“Volleyball,” he said, and thus started something he probably shouldn’t have.

Shouldn’t have, because they ended up talking for another fifteen minutes. Even as the sub slowly emptied, and more seats were freed, Hinata didn’t move from his very warm position.

They became so occupied with each other that the concept of time or space flew them past. All they did was converse enthusiastically about the positions they respectively played, about upcoming matches, or ones they’d seen on TV. At some point their conversation shifted into more personal territory, and so Hinata learned that Kageyama owned an adorable husky with the brightest eyes Hinata had ever seen. A perfect dog for an athletic freak like Kageyama, according to Kageyama’s mom, at which Hinata laughed heartily.

In turn, Kageyama learnt in annoying detail about Hinata’s fascination with Tokyo, and video games, and about his annoyingly adorable little sister Natsu.

But time flew, and Hinata’s stop approached them faster than either would ever admit out loud. At some point, Hinata had turned in Kageyama’s lap so he sits on his side, leaning more heavily into Kageyama’s firm torso than what was probably acceptable, but Kageyama hadn’t complained once, so he didn’t budge.

Neither budged. Not once.

The stiff realization of it dawned on both of them as Hinata announced the upcoming stop of his destination. Kageyama’s brows were pushed into yet another one of those incredible frowns.

Hinata searched his mind in frenzy for a valid reason to ask his number, or to ask to see him again… anything, really.

He was saved the trouble when Kageyama angrily shoved his hand into his jacket pocket and—grumbling to himself—pulled out his phone rather aggressively only shove it into Hinata’s chest.

“Your number, idiot,” he said when Hinata made no move and said no word, “Add your number, dumbass.”

“Jeez your highness! You’re an absolute jerk!” he said, but his words didn’t match his actions.

“Try not harassing me next time.”

“No one harassed you!” he fumbled.

“Sitting in my lap unprompted, unwelcomed is harassment, dumbass.”

“Do you have any other insults than dumbass?”

“Maybe,” he said, “but you’ll have to spend more time with me if you want to find out,” he whispered, a pink so pretty it should be illegal spreading across the high of his cheekbones, “Dumbass.”

The resonating chime announcing his destination echoed between the walls of his heart as he skipped his way out, clutching his phone close to his chest.

Humming a happy tune all the way home from a day worthy of marking in his calendar as his favorite.

_Ever, _he’d later learn, but right then and there _so far _seemed enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Cheers--!  
xoxo


End file.
